


A-Positive-ly Delicious Invitation

by thewaythatwerust



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: #vampire problems, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Getting Together, Hair Washing, Hairdresser Tony Stark, It's hard to get a haircut when you can't see yourself in the mirror, M/M, Steeb is an innocent bean, Tony is hot for vamp, Vampire Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22506478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaythatwerust/pseuds/thewaythatwerust
Summary: Tony leans in conspiratorially and mock-whispers, “It’s okay, your secret is safe with me. You’re not my first.” He winks, and Steve is very glad he doesn’t possess the ability to blush. “Gotta admit, though, you’re pretty far removed from what I’m used to. Most vamps have that dark and brooding thing going on: all black leather, dark hair, and pale skin to go with the bright blue eyes like they’re auditioning for Underworld Extra #3. You’re the first one I’ve seen look like sunshine. Which is funny, considering..” Tony trails off, smiling widely at his joke.Steve finds his lips emulating Tony’s without his prompting, despite the fact Fatal Vampire Flaws for 100 isn’t exactly comic fodder for his kind. But he can’t help himself - that smile is so contagious it should be the subject of a CDC alert.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 147
Collections: POTS (18+) Stony Stocking 2019





	A-Positive-ly Delicious Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret) in the [stony_stocking_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stony_stocking_2019) collection. 



> i. For FestiveFerret - though I ignored all your prompts and went for your tropey tropes of vampires and hair washing, for reasons! Sorry not sorry.
> 
> ii. Unbeta'd because my beta is my giftee. (Though many <3s to Ashes0909 for offering. I was just too slow to take her up on it!)
> 
> iii. Added with less than an hour to go to the deadline because I am HARDCORE (and slow).
> 
> iv. Written entirely either in massive pain, under the influence of heavy-duty painkillers, or high. So this is my blanket apology for continuity/tonal/quality issues. If one line makes you smile, then I consider it a success (though if zero lines make you smile tell me and I will delete and we shall pretend it never happened).

“Ordinarily, this is the part where I ask if it’s your first time here, but _you_ I would remember. I have a thing for… faces.” The man - _Tony,_ according to script font embroidered on his red shirt in yellow thread- smiles at him. It’s not a saccharine, _I’m just asking because I get paid to_ smile, but a genuine, if somewhat wolfish, grin that’s mirrored in his eyes. 

Steve just stares, dumbly, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth because, well, those are some really lovely eyes. Dark brown and intelligent, but in a warm, not cold way, he thinks as they swivel out of view. 

Tony stops the chair’s spin with a tap of his foot and flaps out the black cape with skill enough that Steve wonders if he doubles as a matador on weekends. It flutters down over Steve’s body, and he tries not to fidget, suddenly feeling a little claustrophobic.

Lifting the long curtain of hair resting on Steve’s nape with one hand, Tony expertly pushes the velcro clasps of the cape together behind his neck with the other. He releases Steve’s mane and rakes his fingers through it gently. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?”

Steve blinks, his brain supplying incredibly detailed images of the many activities he’d like to do with Tony tonight. “Uh…” He shrugs unhelpfully.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it seems like it’s been a while since your last foray into professional grooming, uh…?”

Steve offers his name, wincing when it comes out as a croak. He clears his throat and nods. “A while, yeah.”   
  
Tony rounds the chair, putting himself in front of the mirrored wall and leans against the bench spanning the length of the wall. It houses an impressive variety of hairdressing paraphernalia, and Steve can’t suppress the shudder looking at the trimmers, blowers, curlers, straighteners, potions, lotions, sprays and waxes. God, he remembers when a hair cut was a plain comb and silver shears. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Tony nods knowingly. “Did you have a not so great experience, or are you just not a fan of sitting in front of a wall of mirrors?” 

Steve’s eyes snap to Tony’s, what little color lives in his skin draining quickly.   
  
Tony leans in conspiratorially and mock-whispers, “It’s okay, your secret is safe with me. You’re not my first.” He winks, and Steve is very glad he doesn’t possess the ability to blush. “Gotta admit, though, you’re pretty far removed from what I’m used to. Most vamps have that dark and brooding thing going on: all black leather, dark hair, and pale skin to go with the bright blue eyes like they’re auditioning for Underworld Extra #3. You’re the first one I’ve seen look like sunshine. Which is funny, considering..” Tony trails off, smiling widely at his joke.   
  
Steve finds his lips emulating Tony’s without his prompting, despite the fact _Fatal Vampire Flaws for 100_ isn’t exactly comic fodder for his kind. But he can’t help himself - that smile is so contagious it should be the subject of a CDC alert.  
  
“What about styles? What generally catches your eye?”

“You.” Embarrassment recalls Steve’s lower jaw quickly, and it takes a moment before he can force it open enough to stammer, “I - uh, I mean, you, your hair. That style. It looks good.”

Noting the slip of the tongue, Tony grins rakishly. “And this?” Tony steps forward, burying his fingers into Steve’s beard so deeply they trail over the skin below. “Staying or going?”

Steve swallows thickly, suddenly wishing for an option C: having Tony fixed in place, fingers forever enchanted to comb through his facial hair. “Uh, you’re the expert. I’ll trust your judgment.”

Tony’s fingers keep dancing in his beard. “Tell you what. You’re my last customer, but I’ve still got two hours before I close up shop for the night. Why don’t we kill some time together and give you a vamptastic makeover?” 

“Makeover?” Steve asks warily. The last time he’d heard that word, he’d come away with a buzz cut and a pornstache.

Tony takes one look at his expression, and a bubble of laughter escapes his throat. “Don’t worry, nothing extreme, I promise. Just a bit of fun. Human Eye For The Vamp Guy. What d’you say? You game?”

Steve eyes Tony, considering. After a moment, he nods. He has done a lot worse than spend a couple of hours with a hot guy’s hands on him.

“Excellent choice,” Tony announces, reaching over to press a small red button set into the bench that had slipped Steve’s notice earlier.

“What is that?” Steve frowns at the motorized contraption wheeling out of the break room, a black tray balancing precariously atop it with a small selection of shaving wares. 

“That’s DUM-E,” Tony announces proudly, chest puffing out as he grins. “The very finest barber bot available today.” The smile falters as the bot bangs into Steve’s leg, reverses, does it again, and reverses once more before finally course-correcting and making its way to Tony. “Well, he’s the _only_ barber bot, which technically means that he’s the finest.”

Some of the tension knitting Steve’s shoulders together frogs itself as he chuckles softly. “You made that?”

Tony bends to collect the tools from DUM-E’s tray. “This job has a lot of ‘ _hurry up and wait_ ’ hours. I like to tinker with things during the downtime - building things beats the hell out of Sudoku.” He turns appraising eyes on Steve. “What about you? Immortality must be a boon for racking up strange and interesting habits and hobbies.”

“I’m not immortal, just… not mortal.” Steve shrugs one shoulder. “Lots of time to try new things, though not all of them stick. Art has remained a constant throughout the years, whereas cooking classes were a dismal failure. Hard to cook what you can’t taste test, but under the circumstances, that’s not a significant loss…” Steve trails off as Tony starts trimming down his beard with sharp scissors and a confident hand, letting the pinches of hair fall to the floor.

Mirroring behavior is an innate impulse for vampires - matching the pace of a human’s breath, creating small muscle movements as to avoid appearing unnaturally, deathly still - all designed to help them blend in, to hide in plain sight. To get close to their prey. But the autopilot of his brain stalls as Tony presses against him, and his breath catches in his throat, his chest stalling with his mind as the all but forgotten sensation of a warm body against his pulls at human memories and stirs non-human instincts.  
  
Oblivious to his inner meltdown, Tony rakes his fingers over Steve’s skin, checking his efforts before abandoning the scissors in favor of a short bristle brush and a small pot of shaving cream.  
  
“So that means I can’t count on you to invite me over for a nice, home-cooked meal any time soon?” He leans in close, bending and reaching over Steve’s body to drag the brush in slow, hard swipes across his face, under his chin, and over his neck. 

Steve bites back a groan and presses his lips together, tightly, not wanting Tony to see the way his fangs are pushing down in his mouth, lengthening, like other parts of his anatomy, in anticipation and desire. Tony’s own neck so tantalizingly within reach - within biting distance. “My idea of a home-cooked meal is probably a bit different from yours.”  
  
“You know what they say, when in Rome…” Tony rocks back on his heels, thoughts having nothing to do with shaving shining out from dark eyes. “And I’m always up for trying new things.”

Steve pulls in a long breath of Tony-free air as he turns away again to swap pot and brush for a gleaming straight razor. But when Tony turns back, and efficient fingers burn into Steve, angling his chin and pulling skin taut as Tony glides the blade in long, controlled swipes over it, his lungs empty in a rush. Tony leans over him once more, then straightens, frowning.

“You’re a little, uh, harder to maneuver around than my regulars, with all those muscles with their own muscles.” Tony nudges Steve’s knees apart and slides between them until powerful thighs bracket him. “This okay?”

Steve plans to nod, to open his mouth, and say, “it’s fine,” but instead, he finds his inhibitions following oxygen’s lead and fucking right off out of his body. He grips Tony’s waist and lifts him from between his thighs and onto his lap, instead.” Is _this_ okay?”

Tony wriggles, no doubt trying to find a comfortable spot on his hard -very achingly hard, almost throbbing- perch, and Steve manages to trap the moan in his throat. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the greatest idea he's ever had.  
  
Tony just nods and says, “Oh, yeah. _This_ I can work with.”  
  
The scraping sound of blade on flesh mixes with Tony’s breathing - a little ragged around the edges, and coming too quickly for professional disinterest. It takes all of Steve’s willpower amassed over a century, to remain still as Tony rocks against him, pitching forward to scrape the hair and cream from his face before wiping the blade on the cloth in his lap, and repeating the motions. Steve can’t help the thrill that runs up his spine at the role reversal of having a mortal sitting in his lap, pressing a sharp edge against his throat. 

Steve hasn’t felt this alive since… well, since he he'd alive.

Much too quickly, Tony is leaning in to swipe his thumb over the last errant streaks of white still clinging to Steve’s skin, pressing into his space so tightly Steve can hear the erratic pulse thudding in his neck. Steve grits his teeth as Tony climbs off his lap, achingly slowly. “You said I’m not your first. Do you have many non-human clientele?”

Tony nods as he walks to collect a portable wash basin from another station, calling over his shoulder, “Comes with the territory of being a late-night salon. All the good things come out after dark.” He throws a flirty wink Steve’s way. “I have a few regular vamps who are usually just chasing down blue-black dye jobs for exposed roots, and split end management - not up for much bucking off tradition in favor of innovation, you bloodsuckers." Tony laughs at Steve's frown. "There's a handful of werewolves whose hair growth gets completely out of hand the week of the full moon, and a gaggle of faes that stumble in after a night on the mead wanting green mohawks and the like.” Tony guides Steve's neck back to lie on the sink-on-wheels now in place behind him. “It’s certainly never boring, that’s for sure.”

Steve lets his body relax as warm-to-him water floods over the back of his head, and Tony’s fingers dance through his hair, lifting, twisting, and scrunching the wet locks, the smell of peppermint filling the air. He can’t stop the small, soft sighs escaping his lips as strong fingers rub small circles into his scalp.

“So how did you come to be a bearer of the scarlet V in the first place? Bitten or born?” Tony asks casually, rinsing his hair clean.

It’s not really a question asked in polite company, or, well, _outside_ bloodsucking company at least, but Steve reads no malice in Tony’s voice, only honest curiosity. “Neither. I signed up for a secret government experiment.”

Tony lets out a low whistle as he carefully squeeze-pats Steve’s hair with a soft towel. “Well, not for nothing, but you are the hottest lab rat I’ve ever laid eyes on. Should I take this to mean you’re up for a little experimentation yourself?” 

Steve sits upright in the chair again, looking at Tony’s face reflected at him from the mirror. The invitation scrawled across his face more than lives up to the innuendo in his voice, and Steve's answering smile blooms slow across his lips.  
  


The light, flirty conversation turns heavy with promise as Tony works on Steve’s hair in a rhythmic comb-and-cut dance. Tony’s thumb frequently strokes over his nape and cheek under the guise of brushing away cut strands, though his sensitive skin tells Steve it's not always, or even often, the case.  
  
By the time Tony’s blowing the longer strands of his hair dry -with thoughtfully cool air, as not to burn his skin- Steve’s gritting his teeth in an effort to not to push Tony back against the bench and sink his fangs, and more, into Tony’s body. But Tony stands and angles the blast of air over the cape, blowing away the last of the cut locks, before moving behind him to unclasp the cloak - sweeping it away with a self-satisfied flourish.  
  
Tony’s hand pushes down on his shoulder as Steve moves to get up. “Wait there.”

After several rustling noises, a few loud metallic bangs, and a even more loud curses, Tony comes out of the back room with a sketch pad and pencil in hand. After brushing tools and products aside, clearing space enough for himself on the benchtop, Tony lifts up onto it and leans back against the mirror. Tony flips open the book and picks up a pencil, staring intently at Steve as he presses it to the page. After a moment of quick movements, Tony's hand stops flying across the page and he pushes off the bench. He rips the sheet from the pad and hands it to Steve.

Steve takes it, staring down at the drawing wordlessly. Gazing up at him from the sheet is his face, the one that floats vaguely in his dreams, hazy memories that match the single photo he has left from his time as a human. The sketch of surprisingly few lines -the strong jaw, tight seam of his mouth with full lower lip, and the slight bump in his nose- somehow managing to capture so much of his essence, a snapshot of himself as seen through Tony’s eyes. The haircut is simple and classic, sharp and confident, like Steve knows, as a vampire, he should be, and wishes, as a man, he could have been.

“Tony, this is...”

Tony waves Steve's awed-voice off. “It’s not great, I know. I’ve always got one lying around,” Tony jerks a thumb toward the pad and pencil, now lying on the bench. “I usually just use them for doodling ideas, planning projects, jotting down coffee cake recipes. But I thought you might want to see yourself.” He shrugs. “You deserve at least a glimpse of what you’re paying top dollar for.” Tony grins that same wolfish smile from hours ago, and it makes Steve’s mouth go dry all over again.

He shakes his head softly, running his fingers over the lines on the page before carefully rolling the paper and tucking it into his jacket. “Worth it,” he says earnestly.

Tony smiles at him and leads him to the front of the store.

“So, how much do I owe you, anyway?”

“How about you walk me home?” Tony says as he grabs his keys from the front desk and ushers Steve toward the door.

“Hardly seems a fair trade.”

“I know, guarding a Master Barber on his nightly commute is far harder than being regaled by vampire stories while hacking away at hair, but you don’t seem like the type to quibble about it.”  
  
Steve’s lips quirk up as he steps outside the salon. He turns to frown at Tony as he flips the lights off, and turns the door sign to _Sorry, We’re Closed_. His keys jangle in the quiet street as he clicks the lock in place.  
  
“And after that, if you don’t have any other plans in place to show off your amazing new look and drum me up some more business, you’re welcome to come up for a nightcap. Or, a four-in-the-morning cap, as it were.”

Steve’s smile falters. “I don’t think you have my particular brand in stock.”

Tony lifts his chin, his neck arching invitingly. He gazes up at Steve, pupils blown wide, eyelids drawn low. “How does A-positive laced with a little tequila sound?”

Steve can’t resist bending to press his nose to Tony’s neck, nostrils flaring at the salty scent of sweat and the metallic tang of blood lurking beneath. He can’t remember wanting anything more than he wants to taste Tony right now - every inch of skin and the thick, red nectar pulsing below it. The tiniest whisper of movement brings Tony’s neck pressing against Steve’s lips and his resolve cracks. He runs his tongue over the minuscule beads of sweat pushing through Tony’s skin, the salty pearls bursting over his tongue like caviar. The growl sounds low in Steve's throat, and a full-body shiver makes Tony tremble in his grasp, but he doesn’t pull away.  
  
“Tony,” Steve breathes, his lips parting as he pulls back, giving Tony a chance to retreat. But he stands his ground, watching as Steve’s tongue sweeps over his teeth, coming to circle a low, pointed peak.  
  
Stepping forward, Tony tilts his head up, lips parting in invitation. “If a person’s personality dictates their flavor, I’m sure I taste delightful. My blood... and other assorted fluids.”

For one brief moment, Steve’s body is burning so hot he thinks he’s mistimed the sunrise. He shifts restlessly, seeking a reprieve from pants that had not been designed to be worn around vampire-nip like Tony. Regretfully, he shakes his head. “There’s no time. The sun will be up soon.”  
  
The intoxicating scent of desire drifts away as Tony steps back, and Steve frowns at the recalled invitation. But Tony just grins up at him, wrapping a warm hand around his wrist. “It’s okay, I’ve designed a cutting edge anti-sun system, my whole apartment is UV-free and one hundred percent certified vamp friendly for friendly vamps. We can take our time.”

Tony’s mouth is full of promise, and Steve lets Tony pull him along the empty street. He can't fight the small voice in the back of his head growling _mine_ low and sure every time he looks at Tony. It's ridiculous, they just met, but Tony draws something primal to the surface, and when Tony pushes up on his toes and wraps a hand around Steve's neck, tugging him forward, he knows he's not the only one feeling it.

Tony kisses with wild abandon, like he’s not an inch away from sudden death, like he trusts Steve not to grab a fistful of his hair, jerk his neck back and drink him dry. And when Tony’s tongue rubs over Steve's teeth, his fang slices clean and deep into him, and thick, sweet blood flows from Tony’s tongue onto his. Rather than jerking away, Tony wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, combing his fingers through the new short locks and pulls him closer still, inviting him in. Steve licks up every drop of Tony as it spills into his mouth and swallows down the moans that follow.

Steve breaks their connection with a groan. “You _do_ taste delightful. And Delicious.” Steve says hoarsely, rubbing his tongue against the back of his teeth and the lingering streaks of Tony hiding there. 

"Told you so," Tony smirks. He pulls away, walking backwards, reaching his arms out and beckoning Steve forward. "Want another taste? I have another D-word for you to wrap your lips around..."

Steve's lips draw a smirk of their own as he rushes forward to gather Tony into his arms, because vampire or no, Steve had been raised better than to decline such a pretty invitation. 


End file.
